


thinking in absolutes

by mornen



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, I'm Sorry, death possibly, depending on how you read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mornen/pseuds/mornen
Summary: ‘Was the sky this blue my entire life?’ Elrohir asks and Elladan doesn’t know what he means.They lie in a field and there is only sky and grass and the wisps of dark when the wind blows Elladan’s hair over his eyes.‘Can I say… can I really say farewell to this?’ Elrohir asks.Elladan doesn’t have an answer. Their mother has been gone so long, and their father has left, and their sister is dead, and even Celeborn has passed over the sea.It has been so many years.Now they lie in a field, on the grass, feeling the earth and the dirt, the trees, the roots, the cold of the soil deep below and the heat of the fire far beneath it. The earth feels like the pull of death, slow and firm.They’ll die if they stay.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	thinking in absolutes

‘Was the sky this blue my entire life?’ Elrohir asks and Elladan doesn’t know what he means.

They lie in a field and there is only sky and grass and the wisps of dark when the wind blows Elladan’s hair over his eyes.

‘Can I say… can I really say farewell to this?’ Elrohir asks. 

Elladan doesn’t have an answer. Their mother has been gone so long, and their father has left, and their sister is dead, and even Celeborn has passed over the sea. 

It has been so many years. 

Now they lie in a field, on the grass, feeling the earth and the dirt, the trees, the roots, the cold of the soil deep below and the heat of the fire far beneath it. The earth feels like the pull of death, slow and firm. 

They’ll die if they stay. 

Elladan can feel his body pulling apart in places. His soul will be too heavy, and the earth will not save him. He’s not an Elf. He never can be. He’s not a Man either. The world is too cruel. 

He does not want to face fate or try to understand anything. He wants to lie in the grass and not understand the consequences. 

Elrohir touches his face, and Elladan turns to him. 

Elrohir’s face looks unchanged. Or maybe he’s just forgotten what it used to be. It has been such a long time. 

Elrohir’s knuckles brush against his cheek. This could be a century ago. It could be five centuries ago. It could be another time when this decision was still far away.

They could make their choice now. All they would have to do was lie there. The earth would take their bodies. And they would be mortal without even trying. 

‘What more is there for us?’ Elladan asks. He takes his brother’s hand. 

There isn’t anything more here, in Middle-earth. They’ve seen most of it. They’ve travelled far and wide and seen as much as they could. Now they are weary. Their bodies have slowed. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. 

‘It isn’t fair.’

Elladan can’t count the number of times he’s heard Elrohir say that. The number of times he found Elrohir sobbing on the floor because this was too cruel. 

‘I hate them,’ he always said. 

Them.

The Valar. Eru. The ends of the world. Fate. All of it. 

‘Why don’t you choose!’ he screamed at Mithrandir one time. ‘Why don’t you make this fucking choice!’ 

Mithrandir hadn’t chosen. Not for them. Not for himself. 

But he didn’t have to.

And that, too, was so long ago. 

The sky is blue. It’s blue and wide and sweeping. It stares down at them. The evening star still journeys silently through the great heavens. 

‘We could build a ship,’ Elladan says. 

It seems like such hard work. It’s hard to think of even standing. 

‘We could build a ship. We could see our parents again. I miss Mother. I’d like to see her happy again.’ 

He doesn’t want to build a ship. He wants to lie in the grass and feel the softness of it as it grows over him. 

He wants to see his sister. He wants to hold Arwen close in his arms again. He wants to tell her that he loves her to see her smile. 

He wants to touch his mother’s hair and hear her sing. He wants to feel his father’s arms around him and have him kiss his tears away. 

He wants to see his friends – mortals who he has buried one by one over the ages. He wants to meet Elros. 

He wants to lie in the grass and not move. He doesn’t want to think about absolutes. 

He held Arwen when she died. She wept. Elrond wept too when they parted. 

Elladan had never been able to make promises. He can feel Elrohir’s grip on him tighten. He’s holding his hand tight enough he could break it. Elladan doesn’t think it would hurt. Nothing can hurt more than this. 

Elrohir stares at him, and his lips tremble. 

Elladan never wanted to think of this. They never would. But the sky is blue. 

And his brother’s grip softens.


End file.
